


Materfamilias

by Quinnoid



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: A bit sad with a happy ending, GDOV tag for a memory of child abuse, Gen, Nightmares, Sasha gets some quality grandkid time, Spoilers for Ancient Rome Arc, and Roman Rogues Sidequest, ask to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27582280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinnoid/pseuds/Quinnoid
Summary: Materfamilias: maternal head of the family (Latin)Cicero tells Sasha about Plato's Allegory of the Cave, and Sasha comes to her own understanding about what it means over the course of many years.
Relationships: Sasha & Amidus' Twins, Sasha Racket & Cicero, Sasha Racket & Everyone, Sasha Racket & Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming: Roman Rogues Sidequest)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Materfamilias

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wanted to do so much more with this fic, but every time I sit down and try to work on it, I get so happily sad that I just can't. Sasha's story came to such an unbelievably perfect end that it still makes me cry thinking about her.
> 
> If you want to skip the abuse scene, the ~~***~~ it's under is bolded. The second bolded ~~***~~ is the end of it.

While they wandered in search of a place he knew of, Cicero began to tell Sasha about his favorite philosopher. He didn’t know how to shut up, and Sasha was tired of telling him to keep it down. He spoke of caves and shadows and allegories with words she could still hardly understand on their own, much less keep up with in a conversation. Latin was still challenging, and she was still numb from losing.. Everything. Everyone. For the first time ever, she was truly alone, and instead of fear or pain or anything else, she just felt empty. 

There was nothing else to do, so she listened. She listened to stories of prisoners chained to walls, only seeing shadows and hearing strange voices. She listened to the prisoner who got free, who saw the real world and returned to tell the others. She listened as the free one was called a liar, how the others threatened to kill them if they tried to free anyone else. A memory of a rooftop from what felt like forever ago tickled at the back of her mind. A memory of another Other Londoner who didn’t believe her when she tried to free him. 

Cicero told her of the other allegories and teachings his philosopher wrote, but none of them drew her in as much as the cave did. She didn’t quite know what drew her to it, but when she asked, he retold it to her over and over, his eyes lighting up for the first time in weeks. He claimed it was some enlightenment metaphor, that philosophers are the escaped prisoners trying to free the other citizens of the world from their shadows. Sasha was certain he was wrong. It wasn’t so complicated, he just liked to think that it was. Probably just some ancient posh person thing.

In return, she told him a bit about where she came from. About the world of magic and monsters and cruelty she grew up in, saved, and was nearly destroyed by. She tried to explain Mr. Ceiling, but there weren’t enough words in Latin to describe a computer that ran the entire world, and Cicero didn’t really understand what she was trying to say. That was fine. She preferred not to talk about it anyway.

She found the place, no thanks to Cicero, a large house untouched by dragonfire thanks to how far from Rome it was. Inside, two dirty, hungry, young kids were hiding, too young to remember their own names, much less take care of themselves. Cicero immediately took a liking to them, and Sasha cautiously began to care for them as well. He insisted on naming the taller one Glaucon, but asked if she wanted to name the other. The young boy stared at her, face haggard and thin, but there was a fire in his eyes. A spark of hope and resilience and stubbornness she hadn’t seen in weeks.

Cicero couldn’t pronounce Zolf, and neither could the kid, so Sasha asked how he liked Sagax. He grinned and nodded, mouthing his new name over and over. 

~~***~~

Sasha wakes up from a nightmare with a start, panting and sweaty. Out of habit, she checks her sleep shirt for the telltale bloodstains of her scars reopening. She pauses when her fingers brush against the fabric of what is definitely not her sleep shirt before everything rushes back to her. The planes, running through Rome with Grizzop and Cicero, losing Grizzop, coming here. These dreams, whichever one it had been, don’t come often anymore. Dreams of Other London and her adventures with the London Rangers and LOLOMG. Nightmares that convince her she’s back in Paris with Mr. Ceiling still controlling her mind. Nightmares that it’s put her in Rome, that it’s convinced her of a whole life she’d made for herself, just to tear it all apart again.

She takes a deep breath and shakes her head to clear away the thoughts. Sasha sits up and curses her stiff knee and achy shoulder as they creak and protest. Immediately, she whispers an apology to Artemis for cursing about her shoulder. Grizzop’s sacrifice has never been lost on her, and she’s grateful for the fact that she carries a permanent ache to remind her. Her room is still dark, so it’s much too early for breakfast, and while it would’ve been the perfect time for a cup of tea, she hasn’t been able to find anyone who seemed to know what tea leaves are. She decides to go down to the kitchen anyway, where she finds Wilde slicing bread.

“Morning.” Sasha says quietly. Wilde jumps a bit, and Sasha smiles. She’s still got it, despite the limp she walks with now.

“Morning Mu-, uh Sasha. Here.” Wilde hands her a plate with a small smile. “How are you? You haven’t gotten up this early since.. Well since our first mission, I think.”

Sasha smiles at the memory. She’d been so proud of them when they came back. “Yeah. ‘M good.”

“Good! I’ve gotta go get the twins, Amidus asked me to watch them for the day. Be back soon.” Wilde gives Sasha a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before disappearing into the early morning gloom. She sighs and takes a bite of the bread when the nightmare suddenly comes back to her.

**~~***~~**

She was fifteen years old, deep in Other London, expertly tied to a post in one of Barret’s safehouses. If she could just get her right hand to bend a little further back she could-

Her vision went black and white as a fist slammed into the side of her head. She yelped, which just earned her another hard strike. When the fuzziness cleared, Barret was standing over her, sneering. One of his bodyguards wound up to punch her again, but he raised his hand. 

“Sasha.” He looked her over, taking in her torn clothes and dirtiness, how skinny she’d gotten, the new scar on her arm from a fight she barely managed to win. “You steal from me, yet you don’t even have the decency to clean yourself up with it.”

Sasha glowered up at him but knew better than to say anything. That money hadn’t been for her. He knew that. He knew she bought Brock medicine, that she paid for him to stay a night in The Bloody Bulldog to rest, that she had bought him food and a new shirt because his had gotten so torn up. Silently, she fiddled with the rope while he stared impassively down at her. 

“If you don’t learn to behave soon, there will be consequences. Real consequences.” Barret said, leaning in so close she could smell his breath. “For now, go ahead and give me that hand you’ve freed. I’ve got a little reminder for you.”

Her eyes went wide, but she still didn’t say anything. She didn’t move either, until he glanced at the cowled guard next to him and back at her. Gritting her teeth, she thrust her left hand forward, and he caught it by the wrist. His grip was tight, but she didn’t flinch, just held herself steady while he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black ring. Sasha’s blood went cold when she saw it, and she tried to rip her clenched hand back, trying to grab for her knife, but Barret’s grip was like iron. He squeezed her wrist so tightly she couldn’t help but uncurl her fist. The ring was on her finger in a matter of seconds and magically resizing itself, digging itself in almost as harshly as his nails dug into her forearm.

It was cold. And it hurt. It felt like ice shot through the veins of her left arm, paralyzing it and then her whole body as it spread. She gasped, and the cold disappeared. 

“Don’t try to steal from me again, Sasha. You won’t like what happens next time.” Barret said, almost pleasantly. He began to walk away before turning around suddenly. “You’re beginning to cost me Sasha. Time. Money. Materials. If you don’t turn this around, the next time I bring you in, you’ll be going to your uncle’s. Maybe he can deal with you.”

A bolt of fear lanced down Sasha’s spine, but she stayed still and silent as Barret and his guard finally left. When they were gone, she began to cry.

**~~***~~**

“Mum?” Wilde says from the doorway. Sasha’s eyes snap open, and she realizes with a start that she’s been crying. Quickly, she wipes away a few errant tears and looks up at Wilde with a small smile.

“Ava! Ava!” Albina shrieks and barrels into one leg as Gustus hugs her other one. “Missed you!”

“I missed you guys too. How are you two?” She kneels down and scoops them into a big hug. 

“Good!” Albina wriggles out of her arms. “I wanna show you what we’ve been practicing. Gus, c’mon, we gotta show her!” 

Gus grins and follows his sister out to the courtyard. Before Sasha can follow, Wilde puts a hand on her shoulder. “Mum? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m.. I’m good. Just some old memories.” Sasha squeezes her hand and tries to give her a comforting smile. Fifty years, and she’s still not quite certain how it can be conveyed by just a twist of her lips, but she tries. Wilde smiles back and together, they walk out to see the twins practicing their acrobatics.

Sasha spends the day teaching them how to sneak properly, like salted eels down.. The simile doesn’t really work in Latin, she realizes with a wry smile. They’re not great yet, because no six year olds should need to be, but the fact that they want to learn and try so hard warms her heart. Wilde and Brox and Sagax all pop their heads in every once in a while, but for the most part, her day with the twins is entirely uninterrupted and worry free.

It’s not until dinner, sitting at the head of the table and looking down at all her kids so happy and untouched by the world of hurt she grew up in, seeing Cicero teasing and laughing with the twins, that Sasha thinks she finally understands the Allegory of the Cave. It was never about trying to free all the people left trapped, no matter how much she wishes she could. It's about teaching the future generations who hadn't gotten trapped yet to not be afraid of the shadows. Because sometimes, you can’t save the whole world, but you can save a person or two.

Much later that night, Sasha sits down and begins to write a letter.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to go ahead and post this because I got a candle called Rome Burning very impulsively and made myself Even Sadder lmao. I really wish I could write everything I wanted to, and maybe one day I will, because Ancient Rome is very dear to my heart and listening to the AR and RR sidequests made me so happy because they got a lot of things accurate! But alas, I have too many feelings about Sasha. 
> 
> Edit: Sorry, forgot my little disclaimer. Sasha's conclusion is not the "accurate" (scholarly) interpretation of the Allegory of the Cave, though I think it's similar. It's actually about educating people about the world around them, because Plato thought average people were going through life without ever really learning about the complex workings of the world. Leaving the cave was simply an overly complex metaphor for learning, and while Sasha comes to a similar conclusion, she's more of the opinion of it being a metaphor for teaching the kids she loves so they aren't trapped like she was.
> 
> Anyway, I digress. Thank you for reading!


End file.
